


The Penitent

by Glaurung_II



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Daemons, Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Gen, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Post-Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22173463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaurung_II/pseuds/Glaurung_II
Summary: Nyx's kukris were found in the remains of a powerful daemon, ten years after the fall of Insomnia. This is how it happened.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	The Penitent

**Author's Note:**

> Please, think of this as an extra cutscene, added when you kill a certain daemon in Insomnia. I tried my best to keep the characters true to their original personalities and the original plot. And, if there's any Drautos fan out there, I'm sorry. I hate making characters suffer, especially if there's such a nice dude behind the role, but I think we deserved something more than a simple Easter Egg casually thrown in an update

The rain hadn't let down since the invasion.

Assault crafts had long departed from Insomnia, its inhabitants chased away by both MTs and daemons.

He tried to move his head, but the helmet had welded with what remained of the breastplate, as did all the joints of his armor. Like everything that came from the empire, that armor had a double side. Its regenerative powers would keep him alive, Chief Besithia had said.

" _But if you have to be killed,"_ he added. _"Pray that your opponent finishes you in one blow."_

Back in the day he hadn't understood it, but now he would have plenty of time to do so. The armor kept him alive through magitek technology, mending his wounds and tending to his vital needs. As long as it was active, he didn't need to eat or rest, for the armor would do everything for him.

Now it was damaged beyond repair. The stab through the chest should have made him black out in seconds, but he was conscious long enough to hear Nyx murmuring something about hope and about the Prince. Then he saw, through the corner of his eye, his body disintegrating into ash.

The boy had gone in peace and silence, welcoming the sunrise. He, on the other hand, was alive, if his state could be considered as such.

He drifted in and out of consciousness as the armor struggled to keep his wounds closed. His vision blurred at times and his ears rung. The visor no longer functioned and he could only see with his right eye. He tried screaming, but his voice echoed through a desolate landscape of ruined buildings and felled crafts.

At the end of the second day, he thought he saw things moving near. A mixture of elation and fear invaded him, thinking about wild animals seeking carrion. It wouldn't be pleasant, but at last he would know release.

The thing moved to his right, but made no noise, and he could see it more clearly in the diminishing light.

She stood some paces away, watching him with her white, opaque eyes, silent and unmoving. He could see her skin almost translucent under the torn, black garments, the dark hair matted with blood and dirt, the cheeks blackened with smeared eyeliner.

He remained silent, for there was nothing to be said to a ghost. Her blood stained his hands, even if he had been at the Citadel while she died, alone and forgotten, in a scrapyard.

He closed his eyes and then she was gone, as quietly as she had come.

At night he could hear the scurrying of daemons nearby, but not once they approached him. He tried breathing harder, so that they could hear him, but his lungs couldn't sustain the effort, and he passed out before whatever creature roamed near noticed him. When he opened his eyes, the sun was high in the sky again.

The ghost didn't appear before him again, but his eye constantly darted to his right, waiting, almost wishing, to see her once more. He even called her name several times during the night, hoping he could summon her.

By the end of the fifth day he heard footsteps nearby. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, which got caught in his throat as soon as he saw the leather gaiters and the long, black coat.

"Well, well, if it isn't the good General Glauca. Or should I say Captain Drautos? I know not which name you go by these days."

The Chancellor was there, somehow, yet no craft had landed nearby.

Ardyn knelt by his side, inspecting what remained of the armor.

"What a mess you have done of Chief Besithia's creation! I wouldn't like to be there when he learns about this!"

"Remove…" he whispered. "Remove… the breastplate."

It was at that moment that Ardyn looked at him in the eye for the first time. Titus still remembered the very first time they met, more than ten years before, and the man hadn't aged one day. Scarce as their meetings had been, the Chancellor had always managed to unnerve him, and always made him feel glad to part ways. Now that uneasiness was edging on a faint sense of dread, as his amber-green eyes pierced him.

"I see," Ardyn said slowly. "If I remove the plate, it will stop regenerating your body and you will die. What a nasty wound you have right here, in your heart," he chuckled. "Whoever stabbed you had a keen eye."

The Chancellor's hand rested on the plate's edge, gripping at it. Drautos closed his eyes, waiting. Then he felt a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Why would I do that, old friend?" Ardyn chuckled.

He looked at the Chancellor in disbelief.

"You see," he kept talking in that nonchalant, unsettling voice of his. "In all the years I've been with the empire I've never met anyone as dedicated as you. Ten years living in Insomnia and your will never wavered, not a single day. And I tried to sway you, believe me. I kept sending you orphan after orphan. Youngsters as broken and lost as you were once, to see if having a kindred spirit under you wing to teach and protect would soften you. But you stood tall and unmoving like an oak tree, going so far as to orchestrate the murder of one of them, turning soldier against soldier. Such determination will not go unnoticed, or unrewarded.

"The reports from your hometown?" he smirked at him. "You will be very happy to know that the imperial forces left your home some months ago."

"That's a lie," Titus whispered through clenched teeth.

"You offend me, Captain. It's not me the one who has been playing double agent for a decade, smiling at the good old King and his young Prince, while sharpening your blade behind their backs, even trying to murder a child bound to a wheelchair. Despite my appearances, I am an honest man, and I always keep my promises. The empire has withdrawn from your hometown, I assure you. The new neighbors, however, don't like much the sunlight, and would eat any human foolish enough to approach their land."

Titus grunted something, but he chocked and coughed up blood. Ardyn waged his finger at him.

"Ah-ah-aah, now don't be upset, Captain. Be at ease, for your failure might save the world in the end."

"Kill… me…" he whispered.

Ardyn shook his head slowly, with a smile that didn't match the coldness of his gaze.

"I have no love for traitors," he said in a low growl, leaning closer. "Even if they meant well, as I am sure you did. The Ring you so doggedly tried to attain for the Emperor? That's the key to eliminate the daemons once and for all, from which the empire obtains its strength. Provided, of course, that it's someone from the Lucis line the one to wear it."

Titus almost chocked with his own blood, realizing what the man implied, and the Chancellor laughed, before delivering the final blow.

"Had you sided with good King Regis, none of this mess would have happened. Prince Noctis would have ascended as the Chosen One without a problem, as ordained by the gods, and he would have vanquished all evil from the land, daemons and empire included."

His breath was coming out in ragged rasps, his heart no longer able to sustain that level of stress. Ardyn kept smiling at him and, from his right hand, a dark flame sprouted.

"But, let no one say that I am ungrateful," he said softly. "You wanted to serve the empire, and I will grant your wish. And with my boon you will be able to return to your land and live happily there, for all eternity. See? I am a man of my word."

The hand touched his face, and his scream echoed through the ruins of Insomnia.

**xxxXX-0-XXxxx**

Turning humans into daemons could sometimes bring the most unexpected results. Most people, weak, easily scared folk, transformed into imps and the like. Beasts had more interesting transformations, but sometimes a human could surprise you.

When they first met, a long time ago, Ardyn had expected Drautos to transform into an iron giant, given his brute force and his relentlessness. However, the creature which emerged from the pool of miasma looked vastly different.

As he got away to a safe vantage point, he saw the creature getting his bearings: Blue will-o'-wisps floated around the tattered robes, covering an emaciated body which was nothing more than twisted branches, with a cowl covering the skull it had as head. A daemon powerful in the use of magic, and unpredictable in its behavior, always the result of a deep-seated grudge and a profound remorse. He had tried the old trick of the ghost to weaken his will, appearing as that unfortunate girl with the messy hair, but it hadn't been as effective as he thought. If shock didn't do the trick then, seeping poison into his ears would do.

The twisted, gnarly hands groped around the rubble, finding two small blades. The creature howled. It was a sharp, long-drawn wail, not very different from a human scream.

Ardyn had absorbed the memories of the former Captain, and he knew what the kukris the creature held meant: the twin weapons of his former pupil, the younger brother Drautos had been ready to sacrifice by his own hand to please the empire, the hero who could look beyond his own tragedy and attain the light.

That was what surprised the Chancellor: not the personal miseries of a disposable pawn, but the fact that the creature still held onto some fragments of his memories after the transformation. Truly, Drautos would have been a thorn on their side, had he decided to protect the Lucis line.

As much as he enjoyed watching his creation roaming the wasteland, howling in rage and despair, he had more pressing matters to tend to. The Ring was now in the hands of the Oracle, which was good. The last thing he needed was that foolish emperor getting his hands on it and burning alive. He was a useful pawn, still capable of bringing together the imperial forces under his banner. In a few weeks, however, the infection would take over him, making him rave like a lunatic. By that time, the Oracle would be long gone, and the Eternal Night would finally start.

Things were going swimmingly.


End file.
